


Over and Over

by russianhousedj



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Abuse, Abusive!Felix, Angst, M/M, Oneshot, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russianhousedj/pseuds/russianhousedj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has a new boyfriend. Mark definitely does not approve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over and Over

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got around to writing some septiplier, aaandd... it's sad as hell. I have a thing for angsty fics, sue me. If you leave me a comment/some feedback, I'll probably love you and send you a cake in the mail out of thanks. Or, you know, just say thanks.

Mark watches his screen with a horrible sinking feeling, watching the tears continue to slip from Jack's squeezed shut eyes as another sob rips free. Jack clutches at the sheets, trembling fingers curling and uncurling as he continues to try and find something to hold onto, or maybe rather someone. Searching for some form of tangible solace that he unfortunately just isn't going to find, not unless his tear-stained pillowcase will be of any help. Mark sits with his mind reeling, wonders why anyone should be made to feel like this, wonders how he managed to find someone that he cares about so much that seeing them hurting rips his own heart to shreds as well. 

But mostly Mark wonders why it's not him.

Why even when he's here, when he was the first person Jack thought to call when things came crashing down again, when he nearly cries at the way Jack cries, when his whole world is sobbing to him through some tinny laptop microphone across the country and he doesn't force him to talk about what happened- why isn't it him? Jack continuously gets his heart broken, yet he still goes back to the same person; the same person that isn’t Mark. It makes his skin itch with anger, and he wants to hang up for a fleeting second, when the infuriation feels like it'll cause an outburst that he won't be able to take back. But then Jack is taking in a shaky breath that barely gets him all the oxygen he needs, and his eyelids slowly peel open so that his glassy blues are staring at Mark's hard browns. All the anger dissipates in a second. 

"I-I'm sorry." Jack sniffles, words croaky and muffled by the pillow his face is buried in. Mark nearly can’t contain his gasp, having lost his breath just at the sight of a Skype call with a shitty connection. Even in a moment of pure weakness, with wet cheeks and red, swollen eyes, Jack still manages to look beautiful. Mark doesn't tell him he thinks so, figuring it's the last thing Jack needs to hear right now. He'd likely just deny it anyway.

“Don’t apologize.” Mark says firmly, shaking his head. He feels deja vu creeping up on him, remembering how they said the same things, went through this same episode just under three months ago. Or was it two? Mark can never be too sure; it’s not like Felix has his meltdowns planned in advance and marked in a calendar, as helpful as that would be. He’s not complaining that he has to deal with it all time and time again, because for Jack he doesn’t care what it takes, as long as he becomes happy again one way or another. If Mark sees a smile at all before he hangs up, he knows he’s done a good job. Or at least an okay job. The thing he just can’t seem to wrap his head around is _why_. Why does Felix continue to torture someone so lovely when he must surely have an abundance of other options?

Jack smiles a little through his tears, and Mark feels his heart clench. Oh, right. That’s why.

“Why are you laughing at me?” Mark says with a raised eyebrow, and Jack just wipes at his eyes though the tears aren’t stopping.

“It's not you. I’m just so pathetic, is all. I don’t deserve you.”

“Would you stop saying shit like that?” Mark sighs, become a little exasperated. He takes a breath before speaking again though, doing his best to calm the stupid rage that prickles under his skin, in his gut and in his fingertips. He wants Jack to know more than anything that he’s not mad at him. It’s not Jack, it’s not Jack’s fault and it never will be, contrary to what Felix tells him.

“I hate that he does this to you, that you… you _let_ him. He gets inside your head and pushes all these negative thoughts on you. You aren’t pathetic. Stop letting him get to you.”

“I wish it was as easy as you make it sound.”

 _It is_ , Mark wants to say, but bites his tongue for fear of saying too much. They’ve had that argument before, and when Jack is already in such a fragile state Mark doesn’t want to put him through anymore. At least not tonight. He _knows_ it isn’t Jack’s fault that things are the way they are- Felix has him in a sort of trap. Buying him things, fucking him just right, begging for the forgiveness he’ll never deserve when he pushes Jack farther and farther away each time. He knows how to control and manipulate people and he does it _well_. Mark knows that if Jack was in his right mind that he would have gotten the hell out of there and bought his plane ticket to America already. But he’s not in any sort of proper mental state, and there’s only one person to blame for that. Mark’s fists curl up again, overcome with a compelling urge to punch something. His mouth tastes something sour.

They don’t stay up for much longer, as Jack called at a little before two in the morning his time and cried himself silly. His eyes droop from emotional exhaustion. Mark watches as his fingers finally relax and stop tensing in the sheets, sees his shoulders fall and settle instead of quaking with tears. He talks aimlessly to Jack until he’s sure he’s asleep, then ends the call. It’s only around six or so but he can’t bring himself to leave the bed, so Mark just pulls his sheets up to his waist despite not being very cold, and stares up at the ceiling until it's dark, letting his thoughts wander.

/////

“I don’t know if you're capable of taking care of hamsters, honestly.” Mark says with a roll of his eyes, though he’s grinning all the same. Jack seems to still take it somewhat to heart, anyway.

“You know, sometimes your lack of faith in me really hurts my feelings.” Jack replies, and sends a fake sniffle down the line for dramatic effect. Mark resists the urge to smile like an idiot (though he’s pretty much already there) and rolls his eyes again despite the fact that Jack can’t even see him. It’s the thought that counts.

Mark had been out grocery shopping when Jack texted him and asked for a video chat out of loneliness. They settled on a regular phone call since Mark was too busy picking up food for his fridge to focus on looking at Jack’s face at all. Jack pretended to be appalled at Mark’s reasoning at first, before Mark asked for his opinion on what doughnuts to get. At the mention of sweets, Jack forgot he was ever “upset” in the first place.

“I’m not telling you _not_ to get hamsters, I’m just saying that you probably shouldn't. You’ve got, like, the world’s shortest attention span. They’d starve within two weeks, max.” He hears Jack sigh huffily down the line. “But hey, if you want to be responsible for the death of two innocent rodents, be my guest.” He sandwiches the phone between his ear and his shoulder, freeing his hands to sort through some produce. He picks up a couple bananas and eyes them warily, forgetting the rule of thumb for how green they should be when buying. He knows he probably won't end up eating them anyhow, but puts them in his basket regardless. Grinning, Mark knows he's won the argument and can practically hear Jack’s sulking through the phone. 

“Yeah, I mean, I know you're right, but I can dream, can't I? It's not something I really considered to be a possibility, anyway. Felix would never let any kind of animal in the house.”

And just like that, Mark’s pleasant evening at the grocery store turns sour. He usually isn't one to let such miniscule things get to him so easily, but just the mere mention of that name is enough to flip his mood upside down. He takes the phone in his hand again and grips a little tighter than necessary, walking with heavier steps and a clenched jaw through the produce section. 

When Jack and Felix first started dating, Mark was pretty much enthralled by the idea of Jack having someone to keep him company in that small and desolate apartment of his, to keep Jack out of his hair if only for a few extra hours a day. As of late though, he’s been less in favor of Jack having a boyfriend and a whole lot more opposed to the guy. It's not like he has _that_ much room to actually judge, because he’s never met Felix, and likes to think that maybe, he's really not as bad as he seems. But Jack can only sob hysterically to him through the phone so many times before he starts to really develop some bad feelings about it all. No healthy relationship should involve that many tears.

And the sinking feeling in his gut only manages to get worse.

“Oh, hey babe, are you-,” Mark hears Jack say, before he’s cut off by another voice in the background. He can’t make out what it’s saying, but it doesn't exactly sound friendly. He wonders how Felix talks to Jack when he isn't on the phone to hear.

“No, I didn't…. It’s just Mark. What? _No_ , we were just-,” Jack sighs, and then Mark doesn't hear Felix anymore. The damage is already done, though. “Hey, sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll see if I can talk tomorrow though, yeah?” He sounds tired, and also like he’s in a rush to drop the call. Maybe even a little nervous.

“Whenever you can, yeah.” Mark agrees, trying his best to refrain from sounding too dejected at the idea of Jack having to leave. Of Jack leaving Mark for _him_. Their conversations tend to get cut short more often nowadays, and always for the same reason. Or rather, because of the same person. 

They exchange their goodbyes, albeit Jack’s is a little hasty, and the line goes dead. He stands still in his spot beside an assortment of apples, basket feeling loose in his grip as his fingers uncurl a little. He’s not sure what’s worse; thinking about it too much and assuming the worst, or trying to push it from his mind and convincing himself that everything will be fine. It's not that he doesn't think Jack can stand up for himself, it's just that he’s already seen the way Felix affects him, the way he can make Jack break down helplessly. The way his eyes seem dull and lifeless some days, smiling less, looking unbearably unhappy. He _knows_ Jack can take care of himself. Mark just isn't sure if Felix allows him to.

He shakes his head, trying desperately to clear his thoughts before he conjures up some imaginary scenario in his head that he won’t be able to shake until he speaks with Jack again. With a look down at the blank screen of his phone and a whispered curse to himself, Mark heads towards the checkout, distracted. In his throat he feels a tugging sensation, and swallows thickly to push back the urge to cry.

/////

Later into the week, despite all the progress Mark thought he’d been seeing, despite Jack appearing as chipper as ever, he comes to realize soon enough that not everything is what it seems. Really, he's not sure how he didn't pick up on Jack’s emotions sooner. He knows that somewhere in the back of his mind he’d been able to tell all along, but figured that everything would work itself out eventually if he just left it alone. Wrong again.

“Seriously, you look tired, are you sure you're fine? You don't have to stay up so late to talk to me, you know.” Mark teases, though the way his teeth bite and worry at his bottom lip are a sure sign that he’s not joking as much as he’s genuinely caring for Jack’s well being. That's always been a flaw of his- caring too much. Especially when it comes to Jack.

“I’m always tired.” Jack jokes, laughs, but it's hollow and forced. There’s nothing funny about Jack hiding something from his best friend.

“I don't like it when you lie to me.”

Jack sighs and buries his face further into his pillow, sinking down into the fluff in an attempt to hide from Mark’s view as well as his questioning gaze. He groans quietly, shakes his head, acting as though Mark just wouldn't understand. _I want to understand_ , Mark almost says, but refrains. If he pushes too hard then he’ll force Jack away. It's happened before, when Mark was in a bad mood and Jack was too and they both should have ended the call, but didn't. They both should have taken a moment to stop yelling at each other to actually think about what they were saying, but they didn't. This is Mark actually doing the right thing before the shit storm arrives, for once.

“And who says I'm lying?”

“I can just tell.”

“Yeah, well you don't know everything about me, Mark. I'd appreciate it if you stopped acting like you always know what's going on inside my head.” Jack grumbles, not yet full on pissed, but clearly getting there. _Keep it together_ , Mark thinks. _Not like last time._ He digs his fingernails into his palm, focusing on the sting.

“I don't want to fight with you.” Mark says quietly, sad eyes trained on Jack’s figure on his computer screen.

“Alright, then stop getting in my fucking business.”

There’s a long moment of silence between the two of them, and on the other side of the call Jack is staring at his hands, picking at his nails and taking deep breaths. Mark wonders what exactly he’s thinking about, how his thoughts are treating him. Not well, Mark assumes, if Jack's current mood is anything to go by. God, he hates when he gets this way. Jack never used to be one to keep to himself much, usually spoke his mind with almost no filter at all. Mark knew how he was feeling, knew that they didn't keep secrets between each other. Felix seems to have changed Jack for the worse, though. 

These days he’s less open about what's going on in his head. When Mark asks how his day was, it's more often, “Fine, thanks,” than any elaborate description of how his trip into town was, or how good the movie was that he went to see. It's not like he’s expecting Jack to be full of life and energy all hours of the day, because he’s only human and has off days just like everyone else. Jack is becoming dull, though. There’s less shine and sparkle in his eyes, and he’s _sad_. Mark just wants Jack to be happy, and he’s sure that it’s hardly a possibility with Felix remaining in his life.

A few minutes longer, and Mark sighs, rubbing at his eyes and feeling frustrated. But he’s given up; for today, at least. If Jack doesn't want to talk, he’s not going to be the one to force him to spill his guts. Jack might be mad with him at the moment, but he’s not one to hold a grudge, and if all goes well, they should be back to normal by the end of the week. He’ll come around eventually, will ask for help if something is seriously wrong.

At least, he hopes he will.

“Okay, you’re clearly not in the mood to talk, so I guess I’ll leave you-,” Mark begins a goodbye, but stops abruptly when he hears a piteous gasp sound through his computer speakers. It takes him about five seconds to look properly at his screen and take in the fact that Jack is crying to him again. It takes even less time than that for his heart to break into a dozen miserable pieces.

Jack has this odd way of crying in front of Mark; he doesn’t ever seem to allow himself to let his emotions out full force, but rather tries holding his breath, keeping it in as if it’ll actually keep all of his feelings at bay until they disappear. It never works, though, and so the result is usually a couple silent tears followed by a random hiccup or outburst of a strangled-sounding sobbing noise. Mark wishes Jack would stop trying to be so tough and independent all the time and just allow himself to cry, know that it’s okay to be sad. What makes it all even worse, Mark realizes as his chest contracts in an aching sort of way as he listens on, is that he _knows the way Jack cries._ He’s seen him lose control and break down enough times to recognize it; he’s not sure if it’s possible, but it feels as though his heart withers even further at the thought.

He opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, what he can do to help, but Jack beats him to it.

“Felix hit me.”

Those three little words strike Mark so forcefully he contemplates asking if he’s heard right. Time seems to stop for a moment, his head feels a little dizzy, the stale air of his bedroom can’t seem to get to his lungs quick enough. He’s sure he’s never felt this quite this heavy and horrible in his whole life.

“I-It was only a couple days ago, we haven’t really spoken since.” Jack continues when it seems as though Mark is having difficulty grasping for words. What can he say, though? There’s guilt weighing thick in his chest and hurt tingling in his throat, in his fingertips, in his veins. There’s nothing substantial that he feels would be right to say. “I’ve kind of been avoiding him, but it’s not very hard because he works all day and almost every other night goes out with his friends. I sleep on the couch, that’s why I seem so tired. It’s sort of uncomfortable, and I’m used to sleeping with someone next to me. I keep waking up because I feel sort of scared that he might try to hurt me while I’m asleep.” Jack shakes his head and shrugs. “I know he won’t though, I’m just being irrational.”

 _You’re not_ , Mark thinks, but has trouble actually verbalizing his thoughts. _You’re really, really not._

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push my stupid problems onto you.” Jack mumbles, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up more. It seems the tears have subsided for now.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me.” Mark commands, and it shocks both of them to hear that it’s his own voice that’s trembling now. Mark doesn’t cry often. He cries when family members pass, or on secret days when Jack’s not around to talk and the loneliness is too immensely deep in his gut to ignore. He also cries when he gets badly hurt, like when he broke his leg in junior high doing a stupid dare, and when he got a concussion at the pool two summers ago. This seems to hurt more than all of those things combined.

“But I’m-,”

“You are _not_ pathetic, or weak or bothersome or any of the things that he makes you think. Don't apologize for something _he’s_ done to you. It’s not your fault, it's never your fault.”

Jack shakes his head, looking away from the screen, and with perfect timing, Mark hears a door slam somewhere in the background.

“Felix is home, I-I’m gonna… I think I'm gonna go talk things out with him. I hate having to tiptoe around this house all the goddamn time.”

And though Jack’s words strike more fear into him than he’s willing to admit, he does his best to remain collected and let Jack handle himself. He’s more than capable, right? He’s smart enough to know when to walk away, when to know if things are getting too dangerous for him to stick around, right? He’ll tell Mark right away this time if something bad happens.

Right?

Mark nods weakly and hears faint footsteps. He tries his hardest not to feel distraught at the small flash of panic in Jack’s eyes that he catches right before the call ends. An erratic heartbeat and a panging feeling of dread tells him that it doesn’t work.

/////

A week can seem like a long time to wait for anything, but to Mark, it's probably a much more excruciatingly long wait than it is to anyone else. He’s sure of it. Since Jack shared the news of what Felix had done, he seems to have fallen off the face of the earth. Which is horrible thinking, and Mark hates that what his mind went to when pondering the situation was _disappearance_ or _death_ , but he can’t help it. He’s always been a worrier, and this whole ordeal has had his nerves in tight, painful knots ever since the call with Jack. He called and texted and everything else he could think of, but it wasn't much, as their communication relies almost solely on the Internet and technology. If Jack doesn't pick up, then how is Mark supposed to know it’s not because something horrible has happened? All the fretting and trouble sleeping is really no good for Mark's health, so it’s a good thing Jack doesn't wait any longer than a week to finally call Mark back.

Anxiously he sits and waits for things to connect properly once he’s answered, fingernails at his teeth and heart pounding. He’s not sure what really he's expecting, or why he’s so scared, but he can't be bothered to ponder it. Soon enough, Jack’s video feed cuts in and Mark is able to see that beautiful, smiling face appear on his screen. Except, Jack isn't smiling. And in turn, neither is Mark.

“So, I know how this must look.” Jack mumbles after a moment of stunned silence from Mark. He pushes tangled green hair from out his eyes, while his other hand scratches at the stubble by his chin and his teeth bite anxiously at his bottom lip. Mark isn't paying attention to any of those things, though, not really.

He’s more unable to tear his eyes away from the bruise on Jack’s face.

“I don't know, Jack, how do you think this looks?” Mark asks, swallowing in some attempt to rid the uneasy feeling that's rising like bile in his throat. His voice is unsteady, quavering. He’s scared.

“Jesus, can you just- if we’re going to talk about this, you can't lecture me because I don't want to hear it. I-I just need you to be here for me.”

“Okay. I just want to know what happened.” _And what I can do to make it better._ Something inside of Mark makes is so that he refrains from letting the last part slip. He blames it on his constricting throat.

Jack nods weakly and jumps into some kind of horror story. It might not actually as scary as Mark’s mind makes it out to be, but to him, there’s almost nothing more terrifying than Jack being alone in a house with someone that wants to hurt him, and with no immediate way for Mark to play the hero and save him.

Jack had apparently confronted Felix about the way he’d been treated, but not everything had gone according to plan. Nothing at all, actually. The first time Felix laid a hand on his boyfriend, he’d been drunk, and even tried using that as an excuse, a way to make Jack think that he didn’t mean it and everything was still okay. Miraculously, Felix wasn’t drunk when Jack asked to talk about what had happened. But that didn’t stop him from hurting Jack again. Only a few minutes into the conversation, Jack says Felix had started to yell and accuse him of being a horrible boyfriend, of loving someone else.

Jack stops there for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath in an attempt to keep his composure. He then tells Mark that Felix asked him if there was anyone else. And he tells Mark that he ended up on the floor, teary-eyed and clutching his cheek when he didn’t give Felix an answer.

Mark clenches his fingers into fists, feeling inexplicably angry. Not at Jack, but just at the situation. At the circumstances that allowed this sort of thing to happen, at himself for not having any possible way to help, at Felix. But not at Jack. It's not his fault, it's never his fault.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you right away. He told me not to speak to you anymore, that he’d look through my messages and that I’d be sorry if he found out we were still talking. Plus, I didn’t want you to see me like this, anyway. I can’t count the number of times I’ve come running to you because I’m too fucking weak to handle myself. You must be so tired of me crying to you by now.”

“Jack-,”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Jack interrupts, voice trembling with despair and hurt. “I know I don’t deserve you and that you’re sick of me, and I’m just really, _really_ sorry.”

“Please don’t cry.” Mark whispers. _I love you_ , he wants to say. “It’ll be okay.” He says instead.

“I just don’t know what to do.”

Mark sighs at his computer screen, feeling tired all of a sudden and blinking at the way the light just slightly burns his eyes. He never knew when he first started talking to Jack over the Internet a year ago that it would come to any of this; nights spent worrying about his well being, an overwhelming want to constantly be there for Jack and protect him, such a strong surging feeling in heart whenever he sees that face appear on his screen.

It's exhausting, he realizes, trying to handle Jack’s life and his own at the same time, but he doesn't regret it, not in the slightest. He just wishes somehow that it could be made easier. And there is a way, a thought that's always tucked in the back of his mind that he rarely voices for fear of embarrassing himself, or for Jack getting upset with him. He doesn't know if he should bring it up again, should ask so much of Jack at a time like this. Though, Mark can't think of anything better to say. Almost every comforting word has already been said, and they lost their effect a long time ago.

“Come live with me.” Mark says, voice low and quiet, almost as if he doesn't want Jack to hear him at all. Which, he almost sort of doesn't. This conversation has never gone well before. Considering the circumstances, though, Mark hopes Jack will be a little more rational and understanding this time around.

“I can’t believe you.” Jack mutters, eyes wide with disbelief. Mark jumps in quickly, though, hoping to ease Jack’s hasty emotions and explain himself before things get out of hand between them. Again.

“I know you've said before why it wouldn't work, but-,”

“ _But_ nothing, Mark! You really think I'm not capable of handling this on my own, that I need to flee to another fucking country just to hide from my problems?”

“This isn't about your pride, this is about your _safety_. And it's not running if it's doing what's in your best interest. Your life isn't going to get any better trying to defend yourself in vain like this. _Nothing_ will get better if he’s still around.”

The silence that remains after Mark’s words makes both of them uneasy, makes their stomachs twist with hurt and the frustration of never being able to agree. Mark feels guilt worst of all, knowing that all Jack’s life has been recently is havoc and all he’s doing by starting up an argument is making it worse. He prays he won't start crying again.

“Everything I know is here, I-I can't just- just _leave_. My home, my family, and… Felix.”

Mark is usually good at keeping his emotions in check. But that name ignites something in him, a dangerous, fury-filled fire that won't soon die out. And it's always been there, really, but he's never made it known to Jack. Not until now.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You've lied to me so many times, about being happy when you're clearly not, a-and… telling me you just didn't feel like going out when he was the one who told you not to leave the house. And I've just sat back and accepted it because I love you and I don't want to upset you. But the very last thing I'll do, is listen to you try to tell me that he loves you, that the reason you won't go is because of… because of _him_.”

Jack looks astounded for a moment, mouth open and stuttering out what might be the beginnings of a sentence, but he can't quite find the right words. He and Mark have argued before, it's inevitable in any relationship, but Mark has never been _angry_ with him. Fortunately though, or maybe rather unfortunately, Jack is rather used to being yelled at by this point, and isn't quite as hurt as he could be. 

“Did you ever think that maybe I love _him?_ ” Jack asks in a small voice. Mark briefly wonders through his anger if that's the same voice he uses to talk to Felix with. The voice he uses when he's afraid.

“I know you don't. You want to, maybe you did before, but you can't, not now.” Mark almost sounds as though he's trying to convince Jack that he's right. His sharp tone of voice has faded to a softer, pleading kind of sound. Like he's not so sure of his words, like he's asking for them to _please be true._

Jack sits silently, and seems to be pondering the idea; but maybe he’s just short on anything useful to say. Mark knows it must not be easy, fighting with someone as stubborn as himself. He just can’t help it, though. He’s admittedly argumentative, and passionate about whatever he thinks is right. He can’t think of anything he’s more passionate about than Jack.

“I've spent so long with him, since high school, I mean, I... I don't know anything else. He moved here for me, I’d would feel horrible for leaving him.”

“Like he feels horrible for giving you that bruise, right?”

“Mark…” Jack whispers, and his voice sounds a little hoarse, like he's close to crying again. But that's exactly what Mark is trying to fix. He wants the crying to stop, for Jack to truly be happy and be himself again. That'll only happen if he gets out of that house.

“Did you say you love me earlier?”

_Fuck._

“Yeah, um, I did. I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to-,”

“I'm scared of leaving, I am. It terrifies me because I've grown so dependent on him, and I've never lived anywhere else.”

“So you won't move. I get it. I'm sorry for trying to force you into it, I just want what's best-,”

“B-But I feel like I'm more scared of him than I am of leaving. And I'm more dependent on you than him. I've thought so many times before about how I love you too but it's never seemed like the right thing to do to leave. But I figure, if you feel that way about me, that's something worth going for.”

Jack smiles hopefully at the camera, and Mark doesn't think he's ever felt happier in his life.

/////

When Mark and Jack meet for the first time in person at the airport and Mark lifts the other boy off the ground and squeezes him like he's afraid he’ll fall away if he doesn't, Jack cries into his shoulder, hugging back just as hard. And when they officially move into a new place together almost a whole year later, with Jack’s stuff and a couch they picked out together and a shiny new set of keys, Jack cries again. He also cries at sad movies, and when he gets the call from his mom that his uncle died, and when just two short years later Mark is bent down on one knee in front of him with tears of his own trailing down his cheeks. 

Mark always said that what he wanted most was for Jack’s tears to stop, because no one so beautiful should be made to cry, not when they deserve the whole world and more. But he figures as he holds Jack’s hand in his as they walk down the street, watching as his green hair is whipped by the wind all around and he still smiles as he tells some elaborate story, that he’ll make an exception for happy tears.


End file.
